Sorry For Your Loss

But You Have The Wrong Number



I’ve had my phone number for about three years now. It’s still a New Hampshire number since I’m on a family plan and have really had no need to change it and go through the hassle of letting people know my new number. And I’m not one to do that whole “New number, text me your name” Facebook update.

The problem is, some people don’t let their friends and family know they have a new number. Even after three years of being the proud owner of 603-xxx-xxxx, people still call looking for Bob, Francis, Linda, etc. I’m not any of those people.

I don’t like to answer my phone from numbers I don’t know. I hate the feeling of having to talk to someone unprepared and being put in an awkward conversation. If the call is important, they will leave a message and I will return their call. Yesterday, I was Rhonda and got a voicemail about an available hair appointment. I won’t be returning that call. A few weeks ago, Bob got a message from a landscaping company looking to schedule an appointment to redo his grass seed. The only time I answer is when they keep calling, even after my voice message says “Hi, it’s Stephanie!” Then I say, “Hi, you have the wrong number.” That’s that.

Today was a different situation. I got another call from a New Hampshire number. I didn’t answer, but they left a voicemail. Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared for what the message was. It was something along the lines of, “Hi Francis, it’s D. I just wanted to let you know that Tom passed in the night. Please call me when you can.”

What?! How incredibly heartbreaking!! The first thing I do is call my mom. I tell her what happened, holding back my tears of sadness for this poor stranger’s loss. After sharing the story with my dad, we all agree I should call D back and let her know Francis won’t be getting her message.

I try calling her twice, it’s busy. I don’t want to text her because she sounded on the older side and I’m assuming she probably won’t understand what I’m trying to tell her through a text message. It was also a landline, so Francis and D would both be missing messages.

I give it a few more minutes and try one more time. I didn’t really know what I was going to say. She answered, sounding terribly sad. I said, “Hi, my name is Stephanie. I just got a voicemail from you, but you were looking for Francis.” She replied confused, “What? Who is this?” I said, “My name is Stephanie. I think you had the wrong number; you were looking for Francis.” She said, “Ok, thank you.” I wanted to climb through the phone and tell her I’m sorry for her loss, assuming it was her beloved husband.

My mom and I chatted after. We said a little prayer for Tom, and hoped that he’s in a better place now. And after thinking of my morning chat earlier today, complaining for a solid half hour, she said to me, “Honey, at least your day is going better than D’s.”

Talk about a reality check. You could be D today, hopefully none of you are. And if you’re not, just remember, it could be a lot worse. Let the ones you love know that you love them, every morning, every night, and all times in between.





Thank the heavens above that today is another day we get to live and make it count.

xx -S

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